


Broken Hourglass

by EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland



Series: Paper Flowers [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Healing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Part of Series, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland/pseuds/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland
Summary: *Official Part Two of Paper Flowers SeriesAfter Yuuri's abduction, he and Victor try to heal.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Paper Flowers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747969
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Paper Flowers series! (ToT)/~~~
> 
> *I decided to start this off as "Explicit" with the same warnings as Paper Flowers just in case we end up there again O.O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My MacBook died then my old HP stopped connecting to the internet. I got lucky the other day and found a new MacBook within my budget, so hopefully the updates will come sooner. Unfortunately, all of the music I used for this series (including the songs both _Paper Flowers_ and _Broken Hourglass_ come from) is on various CDs and this MacBook doesn't have a disc drive.

Yuuri sat at the table staring down at the barely touched breakfast. He tried to eat it. He knew Victor tried hard to make this breakfast special. He even broke out the heart-shaped waffle maker he found on a Valentine’s Day clearance rack the year before while Yuuri was still in Japan (so much paperwork and waiting for the visa). Yuuri knew this was the breakfast Victor planned to make for Valentine’s Day this year, heart-shaped waffles layered with homemade whipped cream and strawberry puree and topped with more whipped cream and strawberries covered in powdered sugar. It would have been perfect for their first Valentine’s Day together.

  
Instead, they spent their first Valentine’s Day together in a hospital. Victor, being Victor, managed to bring Yuuri a box of chocolates and a huge bouquet of red roses, along with another onigiri plush someone had thrown to him during the European Championships (the entire Russian team kept finding plushies of Japanese food on the ice after every performance). Though Victor said that he enjoyed simply spending the day with Yuuri and that his recovery was the only thing he could ask for, Yuuri couldn’t help feeling that they had been robbed. They lost the opportunity to compete in the 2015-2016 Grand Prix Series. They missed Yuuri’s 25th and Victor’s 29th birthdays. They missed New Years and Christmas. They barely had a Valentine’s Day.

  
Spring and Summer passed in a blur of physical therapy and doctors’ appointments. Orange bottles now occupied a corner of the kitchen counter where the knife block once sat, under a stained dry-erase board where Victor’s neat handwriting translated the Cyrillic to hiragana. The first daily pill-planning tray sat there, filled with various tablets and capsules.

  
“Yuuri?”

“Hmm?” Yuuri hadn’t realized he’d zoned out until then. Had Victor always talked this much? He felt as though the other man had been talking non-stop since he set down their plates. Clearly, he had stopped at some point, since his waffles were gone. How long had he zoned out?

“You need to eat more with your medicine,” Victor said as he stood with his own plate.

Yuuri nodded as he cut the waffle with his fork. It didn’t taste like anything. Nothing tasted like anything. He appreciated all the work Victor put into their breakfast that morning, but felt that it was wasted on him. That everything Victor did for him was a waste.

There were just somethings that no amount of love could fix.

By the time Yuuri forced himself to eat enough of his waffles to satisfy the other man, Victor had already returned from washing the dishes with his medicine and a glass of water. He traded the plate for the pill tray, letting Victor kiss his cheek. Truthfully, Yuuri would have preferred to be left alone. He didn’t really want to be touched. Sometimes, he was afraid that the emptiness that resided inside him would somehow affect Victor if they touched. Still, not letting Victor give those little touches only worried him more.

  
Usually, Victor left him to prepare for their day while he took his first pills of the day. There were always lunches to pack, people to call. Sometimes, when Victor was tired and due for a rest day, he would even reach for the blue dog leash that still hung from their coat rack.

  
They both had the day off though. Victor had not been assigned to the Rostelecom Cup, so he had some free time around Yuuri’s physical therapy. Of course, Yuuri had to have a rest day and it just happened to fall on…

“Happy birthday, koibito.”

Yuuri made himself smile. He should be happy, right? He was another year older. This time a year ago, he didn’t really think he would see twenty-six. There had been days that year when he didn’t even want to keep going. There were nights when he was kept up by the echoes of their laughter, their phantom hands on his skin.

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinked. When did Victor sit down? Where did the pill tray go? Where did that box come from? The last question’s answer came surprisingly fast for his usually hazy mind. “Vitya.”

  
“Open it,” Victor urged as he rested his chin on his hands.

  
He tried to look half as excited as Victor did as he unwrapped the box. Even before he removed the blue paper, Yuuri already had a feeling about what was inside. There were very few things that came in a box that small. Sure enough, nestled on a tiny cushion, was a gold ring inlaid with tiny diamonds.

  
“Yuuri Katsuki, will you marry me?”

  
For a minute, Yuuri stared at the ring, then at the empty spot on his right hand where his stolen engagement ring once sat. Of course Victor would want to replace it. If he could, Victor would probably find a way to form a new one with all of his kisses he pressed into that finger every night as they fell asleep together. He still wore the ring Yuuri had slipped onto his finger in Barcelona. That felt like so long ago. So much had happened since then. Yuuri felt like such a different person from the one that slipped that ring onto his finger.

Victor deserved so much better.

“I'm sorry, but no.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*^o^*)/~~~

Victor watched as Yuuri looked down at his own hands. Victor hated his current wardrobe. It was all dark colors and long sleeves with holes ripped in the seam of the cuffs for his thumbs. He even slept with almost everything covered. Victor hadn’t seen more of the other man’s besides his face, ears, and fingers in months, since he had regained enough strength to be able to bathe on his own. He knew how self-conscious Yuuri was about those scars on his skin. That he saw them as proof of his own weakness.

Victor thought they were proof of his strength. That Yuuri Katsuki was unbelievably strong and brave. Anyone else would have shattered with less than what he went through to protect him. He almost died from it all. When Victor told of all of the still-healing scabs, scars, bruises, and burns on Yuuri’s arms, legs, chest, back, and neck, he almost got sick. Yuuri went through all of that and still refused to tell Ivan what he wanted.

No. Victor refused to acknowledge him as anything other than someone that had caused too much hurt, too much pain. He killed his mother and a sister he never even got to meet. He took Yuuri and very nearly caused his death as well. Victor was glad Ivan Morozov was behind bars.

“No. I’m sorry,” Victor said. He knew it wasn’t the best time. Everyone he asked about it said it wasn’t the best time. Even the salesperson at the jewelry store where he bought the new ring suggested (off the record, of course) that he should wait. However, it was their first time celebrating a birthday together and almost a week (about six days and nine hours) since Yuuri’s last “slip”, so he thought maybe it was a good time. Not the best, but far better than when he bought the ring.

Victor wanted to reach over and place his hand on Yuuri’s. The other man looked as though he didn’t want to be touched at the moment. As if he sensed it, Yuuri moved his hands from the table to his lap as he mumbled something under his breath that Victor couldn’t catch. “What was that?”

“Why?” Yuuri asked. He took off his black-framed glasses and placed them on the table as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve on his other arm. “Why would you even want to marry me?”

Victor couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Of course I know you,” Victor said, trying not to be too surprised by Yuuri’s statement. That was the most confident Yuuri had sounded since he woke up in the hospital intensive care unit months ago. Why was he so sure of that? “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s Ace figure skater-”

“You don’t know me,” Yuuri repeated, frustrated tears falling onto his lap faster than he can wipe them away. “I don’t know me.”

“Yuuri.”

“Thank you for breakfast,” Yuuri said as he pulled something out of his ear. He dropped it on the table before he got up and walked to the guest bedroom.

Victor flinched when he heard the door shut, his eyes glued to the hearing aid. It had become Yuuri’s way of saying “I want to be left alone” without actually saying the words. Dramatic, yes, but it got the point across; there was no point in trying to talk to him if he couldn’t hear clearly. Nearly everyone they associated with in Saint Petersburg had seen the tiny device left on one of its charging bases or left on whatever flat surface Yuuri was closest to when everything got to be too much and he needed quiet.

Victor picked up the hearing aid. He was always keeping an eye out for it. They’ve lost a few over the past few months. They could afford replacements, but it bothered Yuuri when they lost them. It feed his anxiety. It was yet another thing that kept him up at night, blaming himself for everything, even though he knew they weren’t his fault.

Victor knew it was his, for bringing Yuuri into all of this. Yuuri deserved far better.

* * *

By the time Yuuri emerged from the other bedroom, Yuri was on the couch, flipping through the tv channels as Yakov and Victor sat at the table. The two coaches (did Victor still count as a coach if his only official student hadn’t touched the ice in over a year?) were engaged in small talk. Though Yuuri didn’t quite hear them, which meant they were both calm. Thank god they were calm. It was hard when they were both loud, especially Victor.

Victor sounded too much like _him_.

Yuri saw him and said…something that he didn’t really catch. The teenager rolled his eyes as he picked up his phone. Seconds later, Yuuri’s phone vibrated and flashed in his pocket.

Yuri Plisetsky:

(Fix your ear we’re getting cupcakes)

Yuuri remembered. He had been dreading this all week. He wasn’t looking forward to having to pick out cupcakes at the local café/bakery and possibly having to talk to a stranger (he absolutely adored mobile ordering), but he promised he would. Besides, he knew that Yuri would somehow find cat-themed cupcakes, Victor would likely have ordered the most overpriced cupcakes, and Yakov was against cupcakes (as evidenced by how hard he worked all of his skaters the day after Yuuri’s welcome home party where they had cupcakes decorated with edible gold leaf and glitter).

The living room charging station was empty. Strange. They (more often, Victor) usually put the hearing aid on this charger during the day. Yuuri reluctantly looked at the table, where that ring box still sat. Then he saw Victor get up. He stood still as the other man picked the hearing aid off of the counter next to a box of disinfecting alcohol wipes and brought it over to him. He kept his eyes on Victor’s hands, catching the shine of his gold band still on his ring finger when he dropped the device into his hands. After so many months of practice, he easily slipped it back on, the arm curled around his ear.

“Vitya, I-”

“Go before Yurio explodes,” Victor said, chuckling at the teenager’s annoyance. He pressed a kiss on the part in Yuuri’s messy overgrown black hair, then murmured, “We can talk later.”

Something new for Yuuri to dread.

It was a short walk from the apartment to the café. Still, it was the first time Yuuri actually walked there from this direction since that day. Since his release from the hospital, Victor drove them everywhere in the nondescript black SUV he traded in his pink convertible for. At first, it was for the wheelchair Yuuri was stuck in. Then, they simply got used to the security being behind the locked doors provided.

Yuuri stopped at a store window. It wasn’t the display that stopped him, but his own reflection. It always surprised him. He spent most of his life at the upper end of the ideal figure skater weight range. Seeing himself that thin – possibly thinner than the teenager walking ahead of him – always startled him. He knew it was extremely unhealthy, especially given that he wasn’t even skating, but eating felt like too much work for nothing. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep until he no longer existed. That would be easier for everyone.

Next was his messy hair. It was extremely uneven. Most of it was shoulder length, though some parts went past that while others were barely past his chin. The shortest chunks were from where they cut it almost at his scalp for souvenirs. Less noticeable were the strands of silver. They were scattered enough that only people who knew about them would actually find them, but they were there. Yuuri knew they were there though. He could easily see them shining mockingly in the sunlight.

Victor offered so many times to fix his hair. “Just a quick dye and a trim,” he would offer if he saw him picking at his hair. Yuuri always refused. Scissors were bad enough by themselves. Catching Victor standing behind him in a mirror was worse. Yuuri didn’t want to know how bad the combination would be.

“Oi! Katsudon! Hurry up before they sell the good shit!”

Thankfully, the café was not too busy at that time. The lunch rush had already gone through, leaving only the late costumers and a few stray tourists. The air smelled like coffee and warmed sandwiches and the display case was full of pastries. Cookies and muffins and cupcakes decorated with colorful frosting. Of course all of the tags were in Cyrillic, though it was easy enough to figure out the flavors. Yuuri quickly pointed out the ones he wanted to Yuri. This was going better than he expected.

“I’m getting a mocha. You want a matcha latte?” Yuri asked as he held up a suspiciously worn looking wallet. “Yakov’s treat.” Then a look of recognition crossed the teenager’s face, quickly followed by annoyance. “Oh great. It’s Oblonsky.”

Oblonsky? The name did sound vaguely familiar to Yuuri. Another skater? Maybe another coach at the rink? Beyond the circle of Yakov’s students, it was hard to keep track of all of the names. Not that he ever really needed to. The get well soon cards they sent to the hospital with Victor contained more words than they ever spoke to him. 

“Hey kid.”

Yuuri froze. That voice. He knew that voice. It didn’t belong to a skater or a coach. It didn’t belong anywhere near the ice rink. It belonged in a cold, dark room far from the café they stood in. It belonged in his nightmares, where hands still grabbed him, held him down. Where those men forced themselves on him, in him, again and again, as they laughed over his Eros program video.

Whoever this Oblonsky was had been there. He had been one of those men on that very first night. And now stood right behind Yuuri.


End file.
